Chapter 28 - Scene of The Crime #2
Mats steers the discussion to some big merger that Marjorie engineered in the eighties. Once again, he’s absorbing her practical experience. While he doesn’t study business at school, he seems to gain knowledge in a lot of other ways.
That was an excellent dinner, Mats says.
I can tell by his smooth tone that this is his lead-in to the big reveal.
Once more, I wonder if this is really necessary.
Everything is good now, and everyone is happy, so why risk upsetting things?
I give him a little kick under the table. He meets my eyes and shakes his head.
Marjorie, I just wanted to clarify something about when we first met, he begins.
She smiles sweetly. What would that be, dear?
Well, for some reason, you got the impression that Cleo and I were dating. We were not. In fact, we didn’t even like each other.
Okay, Mats, enough honesty. He’s not going to go into all the bullshit I believed, is he?
Ah. But what about now? she asks.
We are going out now. He reaches across the lace tablecloth to squeeze my hand. And we’re very happy.
Marjorie’s face is stern. Yet you continued to visit while pretending to be a couple. Was that to hoodwink a senile old lady into donating to the school?
Mats flushes. First of all, you’re far from senile, but that’s exactly why I wanted to tell you. The truth here is important. Sure, we care about the hockey program, but we don’t want to trick you into making a donation.
She nods. Still, it seems almost overscrupulous to tell me. After all, you’re a happy couple now. How would I ever have found out?
I nod vigorously. That’s what I said. All’s well that ends well. But Mats is really into the truth.
She turns to me. But not you, Cleo?
I laugh. Well, there’s truth, and there’s brutal honesty. Like telling someone their new haircut looks crappy.
Geraldine begins gathering our supper dishes, and Marjorie clears her throat. Well, in the interest of telling the truth, I should let you both know: I’m not really hard of hearing. At my age, I take my advantages where I can.
Really? Because you didn’t seem to hear a word I said at first. You reminded me of my grandfather, so I spoke up, I say.
Geraldine sniffs. It’s because she was fast asleep when you got here. It always takes Marjorie a good ten minutes to wake up. A truck could drive through the room and she’d never notice.
Holy shit. How many insults did I deliver to Mats in a soft voice, believing only he could hear me?
Wait a sec, I sputter. If you heard everything that I said at that first dinner, there’s no way that you mistook us for a couple. I insulted Mats hard.
Marjorie and Geraldine exchange a look, then they both dissolve into laughter.
Marjorie explains, It was the most delightful night we’d had here in years.
You were both so funny. Mats trying to make polite conversation, while Cleo kept a running commentary of insults. After you left, we laughed and laughed.
So, that’s why you wanted us to come back? For the yuks? I ask.
Well, the bequest was at the back of my mind, but the two of you were so refreshing. I could see from the second dinner that Mats wasn’t quite comfortable. Until he was—that’s how we knew you two were finally dating.
Mats frowns. So, you were trying to fix us up? Why? Especially when you could see we didn’t like each other?
That first night, when Cleo described all those awful boys she’d dated, I thought it was a disgrace that such a strong woman had never had a boyfriend who respected and treated her well.
She shakes her head. That brought out the matchmaker in me.
I was running through the list of my grandnephews when a better possibility came up.
I shake my head. Okay, I get that my boyfriend-picker was fucked up. But what about Mats? He’s the last person who needs to be fixed up with anyone. And she doesn’t even know about all the women who have asked him out.
Marjorie shrugs. You’re both elite athletes who love hockey. People have bonded over much less. Besides, I could tell that Mats was unhappy. He needed light and laughter in his life.
Mats releases an exasperated sigh. All this time, I was worried that we were misleading you, but this is a Machiavellian level of manipulation.
Our entire relationship flashes through my mind. You made us sleep in the same bed when you knew we weren’t even together!
Geraldine purses her lips, but Marjorie only laughs. If Mother Nature steps in, who am I to interfere? Besides, putting two healthy adults in close proximity? I’m sure that sped things up.
There’s a short silence while all of us digest our new reality. Mats already thinks a lot of Marjorie, but now I’m really tipping my hat to this woman. No wonder she was so successful in business; she can read anyone like a book. But still, it’s all a bit weird.
Geraldine brings in the dessert and coffee. It’s a lemon meringue pie, which immediately cheers me up.
Well, I hope you can eventually forgive an old woman for trying to make you happy, Marjorie says, still twinkling. She obviously likes both of us, regardless of whether we’re together or not.
I’m sure you meant well, Mats says. Although I’m going to need some time to process all this.
She turns to me. What about you, Cleo?
I swallow a delicious mouthful of pie. I forgive you. Dating Mats is great. The only drawback is that I’m out of crappy boyfriend stories.
Really, I’ll have to thank her and Geraldine privately sometime. Mats would kill me for saying this, but I would never have gone after him—he’s way above my pay grade. Yet, we’re a damn good fit. Marjorie knows what she’s doing.
After the pie is eaten and Geraldine clears the dishes away, it’s almost the time when we get kicked out.
Mats starts to thank Marjorie for the evening, when she raises a hand.
I know you’re not happy with me right now, she begins, and when he starts to protest, she shushes him. But here’s a little something that might help.
She hands him an envelope from her jacket pocket.
Give this to Barb Peachy. It details my donation to the hockey program at Monarch.
I’m giving $200,000 to be split equally between the men’s and women’s programs. And that will be given immediately, not when I pass.
She winks at us. After all, I want my two favourite players to benefit.
Mats shakes her hand. Thank you so much, Marjorie. This is so generous. Our teams will put this donation to great use.
I fling my arms around her neck and kiss her soft cheek. This is fucking epic, Marjorie. We want to repeat, and you better be at our championship game next year.
Oh, I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll even convince Geraldine to attend her first hockey game.
No, you won’t, comes her voice from the kitchen. There have never been any issues with Geraldine’s hearing.
HOW NICE THAT WE brOUGHT EXCITEMENT TO THEIR LIVES, I SAY ON THE DRIVE HOME.
Hmmm, says Mats, who still isn’t fully on board.
That’s his way; he takes his time to make a decision, but once he’s in, he’s all in.
That’s also why I haven’t yet told him that I’m in love with him.
I’m waiting—yes, me, waiting for something—until he realizes exactly what we have.
I’m pretty good at reading people, so I know it’s coming soon.
Why are you upset about what Marjorie did? Because it all turned out great, right? I ask.
Yes. But I don’t like being manipulated. Do the ends justify the means?
Ugh, philosophy students. Always questioning things, I complain, but I don’t really mind. I enjoy Mats’s unique takes because they keep me sharp. I can never predict his reactions.
He puts a warm hand over mine. Just give me time to ruminate.
Do you think we’ll go to dinner there next year? I wonder. The next school year seems so far away, since we have final exams and assignments looming.
I think we’ll go, but not every week. She likes athletes, so maybe other athletes from other programs can go? Barb probably has a plan, Mats replies.
Then I get a brainstorm. Wait, what if we send athletes that we want to fix up?
Mats is already shaking his head when I squeal, Becks and Ethan Unger!
I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but Ethan has a girlfriend now. She’s a poetess who practices witchcraft. He winces, so clearly, he doesn’t approve.
Well, Becks could do better anyway. It’s about time she got over this stupid crush. There’s this guy in one of my classes who’s cute and on the track team. And, unlike Ethan, he smiles.
Fine. How about someone from the men’s team? Oh, I know. Let’s send Big Z, I suggest.
Mats chuckles. He’s a challenge that not even Marjorie could solve.
She’s the matchmaker supreme. Would anyone—other than Marjorie—have ever thought we would be a good match? I ask.
I would. I like your honesty, your unexpectedness, and your optimism.
Like every contrary girlfriend ever, now I wish he’d said something about me physically too. But Mats is too much of a gentleman to do that.
So, I’ll have to settle for a hands-on demonstration. Is there time for you to come over to my place now? I place my palm on his firm thigh.
Heat sparks in Mats’s eyes. Could we make it my place instead?
What does your room have that mine doesn’t? I ask
Hmm, where to start? Thicker walls, my own condom supply, a big bed with sheets that have been washed this semester?
Hey, I got busy with the playoffs, I protest, but secretly, I love how Mats calls me on my shit. We’re never going to be one of those lovey-dovey couples. We challenge each other.
As I was saying—a bed big enough for you to spread out naked in the middle, so I can really go deep. And hard. He’s watching me as he says this. His dirty talk scrambles my brain.
Fuck me, I groan.
Oh, I plan to, Mats replies as he accelerates.
THE END